I was going through some of my old blog posts the other day. Came across one where I was fretting over becoming old... at twenty-four. Ugh. Twenty-four?? I thought 24 was old? Wtf was wrong with me?
I didn't do a big post when I turned 30, as I was busy pushing a human out of my body and then letting it rule over my life. I did, however, watch 13 Going on 30 and put up a pic of Joey going "Why, God, why?" on his 30th birthday, to commemorate the occasion.
So when I hit the next big milestone, a few months ago, I figured I should write something about it. I started to write but then hesitated. My age.. that's something I guarded with my life. My real age is something only my tier 1 friends are privy to. Tier 2 friends get to know my fake age. The rest of them can just keep guessing.
So I'm still kinda panicking at the thought of putting it out there.. for the whole world to see (or for the 30-odd folks who read my blog to see). I can't quite make myself say it out loud to other people. I do say it to myself a lot. And to Google. When I Google the 6000 new symptoms I seem to have developed all of a sudden.
"Do you feel different?" A tier-1 friend asked me. Of course I do. It isn't like when you turn 30 and all the feels that you feel is pretty much an existential crisis or just your mind playing tricks on you. This time, it was not at all subtle. I swear, I woke up on my birthday morning feeling like someone put all of my bones through an idiyappam-making machine while I was asleep.
After years of stuffing my face with cream biscuits and greasy fries, I'm suddenly worrying about my BP and cholesterol and sugar.. ok maybe I’m overdoing it. Maybe after years of fighting my age, trying to look and act younger, this is me just slamming the accelerator and going all in and embracing old age.
I did have a mini mid-life crisis, though and went and coloured my hair brown and cut bangs for my birthday, something I’d been wanting to do since forever. I imagined myself with bangs and coloured hair at 50 and figured might as well do it now. I also jumped on the bed, I rode a cycle, splashed around a pool, danced wildly all night (or for as long as I could stay up) and ate an unholy amount of cake and ice cream.. Okay, that might explain the pulpified bones feeling that I woke up with.
A month later, I kneeled to take a photo of D and realized I couldn’t seem to get up because I now have old-lady knees! The kind that makes sounds! How… how does your body just know that your happy birthday is over? It’s like it had all these tiny men with hammers and drills just standing around, waiting for the clock to strike 12. And the second it does, they’re like, “Alright boys, let’s get to work,” and start smashing up some bone, removing a few screws, loosening the clips holding everything together…
I dunno, maybe it’s in my head. I saw this one reel the other day where a guy gets to meet his child self, and he’s worried the child self won’t like his current self. But then the child self asks him lots of questions like — do you drive, do you have a job, do you live in your own house, do you own a TV — and the adult answers "yes" to everything, he ends up feeling better knowing he’s made his child self proud with all his achievements.
I imagined my child self asking me all those same questions. And my answer to atleast 4 out of 5 questions was "No" and I ended up making myself feel even worse. My child self might be a little bit sympathetic, but my teenage self will be disgusted. I’m hoping she’ll at least like my coloured hair.
I tried to make a list of stuff I did accomplish in all these years to sort of validate myself. I don’t wanna put that here — that is for me. And yes, that did make me feel better.. and yes, there are sooo many more things left to add on to that list.. but hey, I cut bangs as a middle-aged woman.. so there is hope.
But one day, my perspective on this whole thing changed suddenly. I was looking through old photo albums and came across pictures of my parents when they were around my age.. and the only thing I could think was "Holy shit, they look so young!" So healthy. So less.. tired. Thinking back, they were pretty much in the prime of their lives back then. They used to do everything so...fast. My mom used to run and play with us sometimes; she even broke her leg jumping rope. My dad used to walk to his clinic every day. He broke his arm ice-skating! They were both breaking stuff, doing mad young-people stuff. And all of their hair was all black.. they looked amazing and were so full of life.
And that just sort of flips your perspective. Yes, it makes you worry about how much your parents have aged now. But it also makes you realize that this… where I am right now… was literally just the beginning for them. I was three years old when my dad was my current age. My dad, with his thick black hair, wayyy before the pot belly appeared, who could lift me way over his head, who was full of that roaring energy, that larger-than-life personality.
When D looks back and thinks of me at this age, I hope she remembers how young and fast and healthy I was too… this is the version of me she’s probably going to imprint on her brain... of her mom during her growing years. And I can’t let that memory be countless clips of me complaining about my back or gasping for breath after one dance.
So ya, I’ve been trying.. to turn healthier. Sometimes I feel like how much can you mould clay that has been left out for so long. But then I figured I haven’t completely dried out in the sun.. I think I still have some give.. so let’s see.
On another note, I read that this is the age that women suddenly just let go of things and stop caring about what people think.. and hoo boy, that is something I’m sooo waiting for.
I don’t think that has fully kicked in yet, though. On some days, I do feel like I’ve started to let go of things I had been stubbornly holding close for so damn long. Some days I do let go, stop caring, only to freak out hours later wondering "why did I say that or do that." Maybe I'm in the transitioning stage. Maybe by the end of the year I’ll be fully and completely carefree... ha, and I thought I didn’t have anything more to look forward to.
Also just realized that this year, my blog turned 20.. damn. That’s a fully grown adult blog. People who read this might not even have been born on that fateful day in 2006 when I sat down at my big chunky computer during my semester hols to write that first completely nonsensical blog post. Side note: the other day I went back to some of my old posts and increased the font size cos I swear I can’t see shit anymore!
I don’t expect anyone to have followed my writing for 20 years or anything, but to anyone who’s stuck around for as long as you have — thank you. I’m writing more for myself than for anyone else these days, but it’s still nice to know y’all are around. All 30 of you. Bots and everything.
I'll see you at the next milestone in another 10 years.